


The hounds will stay in chains

by these_dreams_go_on



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alpha Bellamy, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Linctavia - Freeform, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Omega Clarke, Smut, Until they realise they're in love, finn is an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24697747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/these_dreams_go_on/pseuds/these_dreams_go_on
Summary: When Finn betrays her, Clarke is forced to admit she's an Omega and when she goes into heat, obviously her best friend and housemate Bellamy is the best Alpha to help her through it.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 22
Kudos: 273





	1. A Broken Laptop

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Everyone! 
> 
> I'm taking part in Bellarke for Black Lives Matter where we take prompts in return for donations to organisations that support BLM, my tumblr tag is bellarkeaddict and I'm thrilled to support such an important cause.

Clarke Griffin was unflappable.

If something went wrong, she either had a solution or a temporary fix until a solution could be found.

When Jasper had accidentally started a fire in their kitchen, she’d calmly ordered everyone about until there was nothing left but smoke, a scorched pan and a screaming smoke alarm.

Which she’d then disconnected with a well-aimed fork.

Nothing shook her.

 _Ever_.

So when Bellamy arrives home to the sound of her screaming and something smashing, he throws himself through the door, terrified that she was being attacked.

He finds her in the hallway between their bedrooms and bathroom, her face red and blotchy, her hair wild and her hands clenched at her side.

A shattered laptop had made a dent in their wall, scattering keys and bits of screen on the floor, and cowering beside it, is Finn Collins with deep scratch marks on his face.

  
“Are you okay?” he asks her, stepping between them both in case Finn decided on retribution.

  
In her rage, she doesn’t seem to notice him,

  
“Get out,” she growls, her voice low and shaking with barely controlled anger. 

“Get out before I call the police,” she hisses, “So help me god Finn, I could send you to _jail_ for this.”

“Babe,” Finn calls from behind Bellamy’s shoulder, “Calm down!”

  
Never, in the entire history of the universe, has anything positive occurred from a woman being told to calm down.

Bellamy catches Clarke around the waist as she lunges past him to attack Finn, lifting her off the ground in his effort to keep them apart.

Not because he gives even half a damn about Finn Collins, not even as a fellow human being, but because he didn’t want Clarke to face assault charges.

She wanted to be a doctor; she needed a clean record.

But there was only so much Bellamy’s strength could do against the animalistic fury coursing through Clarke’s body, he wasn’t prepared to counter her adrenalin fuelled rage.

Still struggling, he turned to Finn,

  
“Get out,” he grunted, “Now.”

  
Finn’s jaw dropped as if he was actually surprised and Bellamy wondered just how he’d expected him to react.

If Clarke was trying to claw his face off, Bellamy was sure she had a damn good reason.

Finn must finally realise that he’s not going to get sympathy or the chance to plead his case or whatever the hell outcome he was hoping for because he pats down his pockets, making sure he has everything before scampering through their living area and when she gives an impatient wriggle, Bellamy releases Clarke.

Only too soon, as Finn spins around in the hall with an impassioned plea written across his features.

  
“Clarke…” he calls as she storms towards the front door, “I love…”

  
She slams it in his face.

  
  
The only sound in their apartment is their laboured breathing as Bellamy stands in their hallway and Clarke as she presses her hands together as if in prayer and brings them to her mouth, inhaling and exhaling deeply three times before she pads to their kitchen island and unplugs her phone.  
  


“I need to make a call.” she states, and he doesn’t protest, he recognises Clarke’s fix-it mode.

  
He settles for brushing his hand against her arm as she moves past him, wincing when she kicks her bedroom door shut.

With a sigh, he glances down at the wreckage of what he assumes is Finn Collin’s laptop.

  
“ _Leave it!”_ she calls through the closed door, “ _I’ll clean it later._ ”

  
Okay.

He wanted to help but maybe cleaning it up would make her feel better.

He settles for using his boot to brush some of the shattered plastic out of the way.

He hears Clarke pacing and making phone calls, so he’s not entirely surprised when he hears her striding out the door not even thirty minutes later.

He checks his watch and sees that it’s a little after seven pm.

If she was headed out drinking, she would have let him know or invited him.

Deciding that she should probably have dinner when she got home, he headed to the bathroom to wash his hands.

And there, in the sink, he finds an upended pill bottle along with a packet of white pills.

He reaches down and lifts the bottle carefully, trying not to dislodge anymore of the contents and checks the label.

He has no idea what it is, but Clarke’s name is printed on the label.

He can’t see the lid anywhere, so he places it carefully on the counter, where it won’t be accidentally knocked and focuses on the nondescript packet next.

His first crazy thought is that Finn or Clarke had been taking illicit drugs in the bathroom.

Except that logic points out that it was a Wednesday night and Clarke barely even smoked a joint with their friends, she wasn’t going to be getting high at home.

He knows next to nothing about drugs and wouldn’t even know where to begin identifying these ones, so he puts them on the counter as well.

He puts some water on to boil and begins rustling through the fridge with half a mind to make a sauce and sees that Clarke had already set aside ingredients to make carbonara.

Bellamy works slowly, taking his time slicing the bacon and cooking the pasta so he’s just finished adding the garnishes when he hears the key in the door.

Usually, when Clarke came home, she called out for him, to see if he was home or just so they could check in with each other, give a rundown of their days.

Now, she enters so quietly he barely even recognises her footfall and if it wasn’t for the jangle of her keys on the side table, the heavy clink of the easel keyring, he would be concerned it was someone else.

She appears from behind the wall partition and slumps onto the stool as if she had planned on hitting the floor and the piece of furniture just happened to be in her way.

She leans her elbows on the island, dropping her head down for a minute before she lifts her face up,

  
“Hey.”

  
Her face is blotchy, her eyes are red and rimmed with traces of ruined eyeliner.

She’d been crying.

Whatever Finn had done had made her _cry_.

Bellamy makes a note to call Octavia and ask the best method of revenge that was big enough to ruin Finn’s week but just legal enough that the authorities wouldn’t give a damn.

  
“Do you wanna talk about it?” he offers, and she starts to shake her head before she chokes and begins crying again.

  
Fuck it.

Finn’s vespa was getting egged.

He hurries around the kitchen island and pulls her into a hug, rocking her back and forth until she was taking shuddering sobs and could breathe again.

  
“Thanks,” she murmurs, “But I hoped whatever you cooked goes well with red wine.”

He smirks, “Everything goes well with red wine.”

  
He slides the plates across the island and follows through with the glasses, overserving hers and she manages a weak snort before taking a generous sip.

She only pokes at her pasta though, moving it around on the plate until she drops her fork with a sigh.

  
“Can we talk about it?” she asks, and he nodded while trying to chew.

  
Clarke sighed again and Bellamy chewed faster.

  
“I guess you’re gonna find out anyway,” she mumbled, “But…I’m an Omega.”

  
Bellamy choked and covered his mouth, struggling to chew and waiting until he’d swallowed before judging it safe to talk.

  
“Are…you _sure_?”

  
The look Clarke gives him is at best unimpressed and at worst questioning his intelligence and Bellamy’s never doubted anything she’s told him before but it was just…

An Omega?!

Omegas were rare.

 _Extremely_ rare.

He would have been less surprised if she’d told him she was a unicorn.

Hell, maybe she was just a confused unicorn.

Until the early twentieth century, Omegas had outnumbered Alphas and Betas two-to-one, not that it had done them much good. They’d had no rights, been outcasts and the most they could hope for had been to be claimed and marked by a kind Alpha.

Unfortunately, by the time society had realised just how much Omegas had to bring to the table, mainly collectivist outlooks, altruistic natures and true empathy, there’d been too much selective breeding to try and recoup the losses.

Which, ironically, had almost flipped the hierarchy on its head.

These days, a true and proven Omega could have their pick of Alpha.

It was a major status symbol for an Alpha to be mated to a real omega. There had been massive, career-ruining backlash against one Hollywood star who’d marked two Omegas, being called selfish and detrimental to society. As it turned out, one of them had merely been a Beta trying to pass as an omega anyway.

Which had been a thing in recent years, with people trying to play submissive or take pills to pass as Omega. Particularly in porn with the myth of the Omega…

  
“Oh…” Bellamy moaned as a really stupid idea came into his head and he’s hoping he’s wrong but the pills he found earlier suddenly made a lot more sense to him.

  
Because he’s an Alpha, and not a complete idiot, he should have been able to figure out that he was living with an Omega.

Unless she had been actively trying to hide that she was an Omega.

  
Clarke sees where he’s arrived and nods, “There are…I take suppressants, it dampens my pheromones, keeps me from experiencing most of the effects of being an Omega. Finn figured it out somehow and he’s been swapping them out for sugar pills, in the hopes of triggering my heat.”

  
Fuck it.

Finn was getting egged and his vespa was getting beaten with a baseball bat.

Bellamy isn’t as good at fixing things as Clarke but that’s not for lack of trying,

  
“Can you go to your doctor or specialist and get some more?” he asks, “I can loan you some money if you need…”

She shakes her head, “I just got back from my specialist, they ran some tests and refilled my prescription but it depends on how long I’ve been taking the sugar pills for whether it’d be safe for me to start taking the suppressants again or whether I’d have to…” she trails off, choking on tears and he puts down his fork to rub her back comfortingly.

“Whether I’d have to experience my first ever heat…” she finishes, gripping her cutlery hard, “God…I can’t believe I trusted him, I trusted him and he did this to me…”

  
Bellamy reaches over with his free hand to push the wine bottle closer to her.

  
“I’ll make breakfast tomorrow morning.” he promises and leans precariously in her stool to drop her head on his shoulder,

“You’re the best.”

One hour- and a lot more wine than Clarke probably should have consumed considering she had class tomorrow- later, Bellamy finds himself sitting sideways on the couch facing her as she rants,

  
“He said I didn’t need to be "ashamed" of being an Omega!” she shouted, gesticulating with her hands and a thankfully empty wine glass, “ _Ashamed_ Bellamy!”

“I’m not ash…ashamed, I’m not,” She continues, looking about for the wine and Bellamy heads to the pantry for more, “I’m not,” she shouts.

“I believe you.” he calls, reaching in and pulling out the first bottle that came to hand,

“I just…it’s complicated,” she slurs, “It’s…I knew this girl in middle school right…”  
  


She trails off as he refills her glass and a few minutes are lost to her sampling the wine and humming about how good it is. Bellamy isn’t fussed, he knows drunk Clarke all too well, she’ll come back to her train of thought eventually.

  
“I like this wine,” she murmurs, “We should…get more, Bellamy let’s buy more wine but this wine and put it on the list.”

She twists around suddenly, and Bellamy quickly catches the wine before it ends up on the couch and the floor, “We already did that, princess.”

“We put it on the list?” she asks in confusion as he draws her back to the couch,

“We got a subscription,” he reminds her, “They send a box every month, remember?”

  
It was the last time Bellamy had let Clarke use her phone unsupervised after two hours of drinking.

  
“Tell me about middle school.”

“Right, middle school…I was on the cheer team…no, that wasn’t it.”

  
No, but that was an important piece of information he was going to file away for later.

  
“Middle school,” she echoes, “Middle school…Oh right!”

“I knew this girl…her name was Roma and she presented as an Omega and then suddenly everyone was around her all the time, she became super popular and she was having all these crazy make-out sessions with like all these guys and then she was having _sex_ …”

  
She hisses the word sex as if it’s something scandalous, which, considering it was middle school probably hadn’t been the best time to start having sex.

  
“But then once the novelty wore off, everybody dumped Roma, she went from the most sought after girl in school to an outcast overnight, nobody would talk to her and even the teachers ignored her. Especially when it turned out she was pregnant, and nobody knew who the father was.”

  
Bellamy winced in sympathy as Clarke fell quiet,  
  
  
“I was twelve then and when my mom convinced Dr Cartwig to run the test early, she had me on suppressants before I was even on birth control.”

  
She frowns into her wine glass which is empty again and Bellamy only refills it to the halfway mark this time,

  
“I just…I didn’t intend for it to be a huge secret but I didn’t want it to define who I am and it was bad enough when I came out as bisexual, I was getting asked for three-ways by everyone if they’d found out I was an Omega too, nobody would date me because they actually liked me as a person.”

Bellamy smirked, “Anyone who dates you just because you’re bi or an Omega and not because you’re awesome is an idiot.”

“You have to say that,” Clarke smirked, “I buy that gross chocolate you like.”

  
That’s true and one of the many reasons he liked her.

  
“And because I’m right.” He said, doubling down and launching into a long list of her many good qualities, making her smile before she responded with her own list of his good qualities.

  
Clarke was an affectionate, supportive drunk, so she then segued into how he should become an author because he was so creative and wonderful and…

Bellamy kind of loses her there when her words become less comprehensible and derail into vague rambling punctuated with the occasional recognizable verb but not enough that he could piece together her intent.

Which was probably a good a time as any to get her into bed.

  
“Come on, Princess,” he urges, standing up and turning to face her so he could offer her his hand.

  
He would just carry her but with the amount of alcohol currently in her system, he didn’t want to risk upsetting her stomach.

She grumbles but slaps her hand on his open palm and lets him pull her up so he can lead her to the bathroom where she brushes her teeth, washes her face and then to her bedroom. Admiring her half-finished sketch she’d left lying on her bedside table as she stumbles into a nightshirt, he waits until he hears her falling onto the bed before turning around again.

She’s lying down with her arm flung over her eyes, her breathing steady but she isn’t asleep yet.

Thankfully, she’s also not that heavy, so he can slide a hand under her back and lift her up enough to yank her blankets down and tuck her in properly.

  
“Sleep well, Princess.” he tells her, getting a mumble in response before he switches off her bedroom light and closes the door behind him.

  
Clarke had cleaned the shattered laptop from their hallway while she’d still been tipsy and even given the floor a quick wash and polish because she’d been down there anyway. The mixture of chemical and orange scent has him smiling.

Even on a bad day, Clarke could fix anything.

She’d be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, even though she was clearly worse for wear, Clarke was obviously trying to put on a brave and optimistic face.

  
She looked like a happy zombie as she shuffled about the kitchen, getting in his way as he made them both coffee and enough breakfast to soak up the alcohol still in her system.

  
“Get dressed,” he orders, helping himself to a spoonful of her expensive yoghurt as she stood staring blankly into space, her hands wrapped around her empty mug,

  
“You have class in two hours.”

  
She moans at him but trudges off in the general direction of the bathroom and he makes a mental note to check in ten minutes that she’s actually getting ready and not dozing in the bathtub.

  
He’s made that mistake before.

  
Unlike Clarke, Bellamy is a humanities student, he doesn’t have class on Wednesday, so he grabs his laptop and settles on the couch for a morning of studying.

  
He often loses track of the time as he reads, if he’s not facing a clock, the entire day will go by and he’ll only notice when it becomes too dark to see the page in front of him.

  
Still, when Clarke comes flying through the door, slamming it closed behind her and leaning against it as if she’s trying to keep out the world, he does blink in disorientation because it doesn’t feel like four hours had passed.

  
He’d check the time, but he’s got his feet up on the coffee table and is slouched in the most perfect position and his phone and his watch are out of immediate reach, so…

  
“ _Bellamy_ ,” Clarke chokes his name and he realises that something is wrong.

  
He draws his legs off the table and sits up, ignoring the twinge in his back.

  
“What happened?”

  
She swallows, “Did you…did you tell anyone…about me?”

  
He frowns in confusion and asks, “That you broke up with Finn?” before remembering the other major revelation of last night.

  
That she was an Omega.

  
He shakes his head, “No I uh…figured it was like Bro Code or something, you don’t spill secrets like that. Plus, Miller’s camping right now, I don’t have anyone to gossip with.”

  
Clarke manages a weak laugh as she runs her hands over her face, “You didn’t tell Murphy?”

  
 _Murphy_?

  
He’s concerned enough now to warrant standing up, “John Murphy?” he clarified, “Clarke, I don’t even tell him the correct time when he asks, what happened?”

  
She sniffed and made her way to the couch, sinking down and resting her elbows on her knees, clasping her shaking hands so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

  
“I didn’t notice anything because I was so hungover but I didn’t charge my phone last night so it’s dead and I had my headphones in until the last possible second but…he ambushed me after class and dragged me off campus because apparently…” she breaks off and forces her lips upward into a tight smile,

  
“The secret’s out.”

  
 _No_.

  
“No way,” Bellamy stated, running a hand through his hair, “There’s no _way_ Finn went around telling everyone that you’re an Omega, there’s no way he did that.”

  
She snorted and looked up at him with wet eyes, “It was either him or you.”

  
Was there a way to legally set a Vespa on fire?

  
“Fuck…” Bellamy groans, “He is such a massive asshole, also how is it not _illegal_ for him to do this?”

  
“Outing me isn’t illegal,” Clarke informed him, “I called the non-emergency PD line last night and the person on the phone told me that trying to trigger my heat fell under both sexual and reproductive coercion- provided I was a real Omega and not attempting to pass as one. If I want to press charges, I’d have to provide medical documentation proving that I’m a real Omega, but it isn’t illegal to out me unless I can prove it was done with harmful intentions.”

  
“Is there any other reason to out somebody?” he challenges, and she shrugs hopelessly,

  
“I’m going to go to my room, hide under the covers and pretend the world doesn’t exist for a few hours.”

  
And with a promise to drag her out periodically for food or immediately if the apocalypse came, he left her to shelter from the world.

  
Which was probably why their friends started messaging him instead.

* * *

  
_Text Message_

_Raven: Hey, why is Clarke not answering her phone?_

_Bellamy: It’s dead_

_Raven: Dead huh?_

_Raven: So it doesn’t have anything to do with the rumour currently going around campus?_

_Bellamy: What rumour?_

_Raven: Don’t bullshit me, Blake_

_Raven: You seriously want me to ask?_

_Raven: Fine_

_Raven: Is Clarke an Omega?_

_Bellamy: That’s for Clarke to tell you._

_Raven: Seriously?_

_Group Chat:_

_Raven Reyes has invited Bellamy Blake, Jasper Jordan, Monty Green, Harper McIntyre, and Octavia Blake_

_Raven Reyes has posted a picture._

_Screenshot01.jpg_

_Raven: Seriously Bellamy, is Clarke an Omega?_

_Bellamy: Not my place to say._

_Monty: What is happening?_

_Octavia: Good talk big brother._

_Harper: OMG, I heard people talking about there being an Omega on campus_

_Harper: Is CLARKE an Omega?_

_Jasper: Like a real one?_

* * *

  
Bellamy leaves the group chat to dissolve into its usual chaos and figures in about an hour Jasper and Monty will have effectively hijacked it into a conversation about the latest board game they want everyone to play.

  
He pours himself a glass of water and drinks it to try and distract himself from the fact that he’s a little pissed at Raven. It wasn’t his place to announce Clarke’s secret to the world, even if the world seemed to know already.

  
He couldn’t figure out what the hell Finn had been thinking outing Clarke like that.

  
Stupid Beta.

  
There’s a knock on their door and Bellamy turns his head as if he could see through the wall and the wood to the person standing on the other side.

  
Who the hell was doing a random drop by?

  
Not Octavia, she liked to press their door bell like she was trying to break it and their sanity with a long, continuous ring until they answered.

  
The rest of their friends shot them a text before visiting to make sure they were in.

  
And it definitely wasn’t Clarke’s mom, because she always knocked like her knuckles were too good for the door.

  
Maybe it was one of their neighbours?

  
Curious- but also annoyed by the interruption to his reading schedule- Bellamy forces a passive expression onto his face and reminds himself that he could be polite.

  
Except when he opens the door, he has no idea who the guy on the other side is.

  
“Can I help you?”

  
The guy clearly wasn’t expecting him either and glances at the number on their door as if confirming that he definitely has the right place.

  
“Does…uh…Clarke Griffin live here?” he asks, and Bellamy feels a sense of dread in his chest that has little to do with a stranger trying to encroach on his living space.

  
“She’s busy right now.” he says, not even lying, he’s pretty sure ignoring the world isn’t something that can be multitasked.

  
The man clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair and Bellamy notes that he’s dressed in what looks like op shop rejects, but his he looks clean if not a little unkempt.

  
Had Clarke offered their couch in case of emergencies?

  
“Bellamy?” she calls out and he hears her shuffling across their hardwood floor,

  
“Is everything okay?”

  
The man perks right up when he hears Clarke’s voice but Bellamy senses her stopping behind him, looking over his shoulder instead of standing beside him and expecting him to make room for her.

  
“Hey!” the man grins, staring at her with a breathless smile on his face.

  
“You’re one of the doctors at the clinic I go to,” Clarke noted, although she’s still clearly confused by his presence.

  
“Did something happen?”

  
The man glances at Bellamy and he knows that if this is a medical issue, he should probably give them space, but he’s never heard of a clinic that does surprise house calls and this guy is definitely not dressed like a doctor. He shifts on his feet to give Clarke a bit more space, leaning his arm on the door but otherwise not moving. 

  
“Everything is fine,” he reassures her, “But I…uh…couldn’t help but overhear your consultation with Luna, Dr Mer, about how you’re a real Omega and you’ll be going into heat soon and well…I’m an Alpha so…”

  
Bellamy slammed the door so hard and fast that he was momentarily worried about the lock breaking and bouncing back on them, but thankfully it only rattled in place and then the world fell silent.

  
He released a breath and then turned to Clarke who had visibly recoiled and was staring at the door in shock.

  
He’s worried that he’s frightened her, so he steps back, holding up his hands only to find his back hitting the wall when Clarke throws herself at him, burying her nose in the crook of his shoulder. She gives a suspicious sniffle and he wraps his arms around her, rocking them both gently to try and soothe her.

  
After a few minutes, Clarke pulls away and wipes at her eyes, “So, apparently I need to ring my OBGYN and let her know that her office walls are thin.”

  
She gives a wet chuckle and his heart breaks for her, so he gives her a comforting kiss to her hair and brushes away a strand that sticks to his dry lips.

  
“I’ll make some mac’n’cheese.” he offers, and she grins at the thought of her favourite comfort food, while he needed something to occupy his hands so he didn’t research which government body he needed to contact to get that doctor fired and his licence revoked.

  
He glares at the door and hopes that idiot was the only one stupid enough to try propositioning Clarke just because she was an Omega.

* * *

  
Bellamy was wrong.

  
He might have been doubtful when Clarke had first told him that she was an Omega, but apparently, every other Alpha in town was willing to take the rumour on blind faith.

  
Not just the Alphas either, but even a few Betas were knocking on their door.

  
Thankfully, he’d worked out the perfect response to these almost complete strangers trying to sexually proposition his best friend.

  
He opened the door, told them to go to hell and slammed it shut again.

  
If they knocked again, he used swear words and if they tried a third time, he had a bucket of water on standby.

  
This process was working perfectly until he opened the door and actually recognised the person standing on the other side.

  
“ _Are you fucking kidding me?!_ ” he demanded- not shrieked, although his voice did get a little high.

  
Lincoln blinked at him in apparent confusion, “Hi Bellamy,” he said slowly, “I’m here to see Clarke.”

  
“And what about my sister you bastard?!” he shouted, causing Lincoln to take a step back, as if surprised by his tone.

  
“She’s on her way now.” He explains and Bellamy has no idea what the hell Lincoln thinks is going to happen but there’ll be a snowstorm in hell before he lets his sister and best friend have an Omega heat three-way.

  
He’s about to say as much- very, very loudly- when his sister appears in the doorway,

  
“Invite him in asshole,” she says by way of greeting, slipping her phone into her pocket “And offer him a drink like a normal person.”

  
“A normal person?” he splutters, “Normal people don’t turn up to proposition their girlfriend’s friends for sex.”

  
“That’s not why I’m here,” Lincoln says, openly frowning now and looking to Octavia who rolls her eyes.

  
“He’s not here to have sex with Clarke,” she assures him, and Bellamy begins to relax,

  
“ _I’m_ here to have sex with Clarke,” she continues, “He’s here to watch.”

  
He opens his mouth to argue with his sister about being inappropriate, but Lincoln reaches out to grab his arm and pulls him into the corridor, effectively switching their places.

  
“Go get coffee, Blakes.” he orders before shutting the door in their faces.

  
They have a moment of silence as Octavia glances down at the ugg boots on his feet and back up at him with disappointment on her face.

  
“If anyone asks,” she deadpans, “You’re my study partner.”

* * *

  
Bellamy didn’t want to leave Clarke, but Octavia dragged him three blocks away to his favourite coffee place to get takeout before promising to let him go to his favourite bookshop.

  
Once they have their hands wrapped around the large cups and are sipping them as they make their way down the street, she apparently reckons they’re in a public enough place and he’s placated enough with coffee not to freak out. 

  
“Lincoln’s an Omega.” She tells him quietly and he splutters on his drink,

  
“ _Lincoln?!_ ” he chokes, “Your boyfriend Lincoln? Tall guy built like a truck that we left back at the apartment?”

  
His sister rolls her eyes at his theatrics, “No, another Lincoln, but you don’t know him because he lives in Canada.”

  
Bellamy is beginning to realise that it’s probably a dick response, but he can’t help himself,

  
“Are you sure?”

  
She nods and hums, “I was pretty doubtful myself just because Omegas are so super rare, but I tagged along to one of his specialist appointments and yep, Omega.”

  
Bellamy has a flashback to a time when Lincoln had bench-pressed Monty on a dare and hadn’t even broken a sweat.

  
“Was it…” he pauses and tries to think of a way to phrase his question, “Obvious, once you knew?”

  
She tilts her head, her hair shifting against her back and he remembers all the hours he spent French braiding it as a child.

  
“No…I mean, he’s a paramedic and he is kind and gentle but if he hadn’t told me, I don’t think I would have figured it out myself…” she trails off and sips at her coffee,

  
“Do you know how Finn found out?”

  
Bellamy shook his head, “As far as I can tell, he found Clarke’s suppressants and went from there.”

  
Octavia snorted, “Well, he’s an idiot.”

  
They reach his favourite bookshop and he leaves his sister in the dust as he darts in, smiles at Gina who recognises him from his frequent visits and heads straight for the non-fiction section. He has a process for browsing for his newest reads. First, he’ll hit up non-fiction, the history section, and then move into sci-fi, fantasy and finally regular fiction.

  
He loses sight of his sister for a solid half-hour before he literally bumps into her as he makes his way past the self-help section. He glances down at the book in her hand and sees that it’s for navigating Omega relationships.

  
“Finn’s a Beta?” she queried, following him as his eyes darted from shelf to shelf, “Did I remember that right?”

  
“Yeah,” he muses, although he can’t really be bothered thinking about Finn right now, not when there’s so many books needing to be bought.

  
“And he was trying to trigger Clarke’s heat?” she continues and he grimaces at the thought of discussing this with his sister,

  
“Yeah, she’s still waiting to hear back from her doctor on whether it’ll happen though.”

  
“And if it does?” Octavia asked, “What then?”

  
He shrugs, “I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.”

  
“Because she can’t have sex with Finn.” she points out and he rolls his eyes,

  
“Obviously, O, what he did was illegal.”

  
“And he’s a Beta.” she adds, and he glances at her from the corner of his eye, “What?”

  
He can read the exasperation in her facial features, “When Harper said she wanted to get into Kintsugi, you read up on that for a solid week but you haven’t done any research into this?”

  
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I found out!” he argues only to receive a harsh shushing from an elderly lady as she bustled past them.

  
His sister sighs with a disappointment usually reserved for his clothing choices and elaborates.

  
“When Omegas’ go into heat, they want an Alpha, not a Beta, it’s why Beta-Omega relationships weren’t really a thing back in the day. Beta’s can’t satisfy an omega heat.”

  
Oh.

_  
Oh._

  
Bellamy hopes that someone has pointed that out to Finn, let him know that he would have triggered a week of extreme disappointment for Clarke if they’d still been together.

  
Although, that’s probably not a new experience for the floppy-haired bastard.

  
He’s still smirking at his-admittedly cruel but totally justified thought- as he gathers up his books of choice and then narrows the selection down to three because Clarke has made a rule about how many books he can buy at a time- they’re running out of room in the apartment- and heads to the counter.

  
Gina starts up a friendly conversation with him and he introduces her to his sister- forgetting Octavia was trying to hide their blood relation of out shame- and pays the extra dollar for the tote bag because he needs something to lug the books home with.

  
“You’re an idiot,” Octavia tells him as they detour past a boutique store that sells Clarke’s favourite cookies and he mostly ignores her while he buys a pack for her.

  
“Don’t you want to know why?” she demands, and he shrugs as they near the apartment,

  
“I figure you’ll tell me at some point.”

  
She groans and stamps her foot, “You’re the worst!”

  
“I know you are but what am I?”

  
“Bellamy,” she snaps as they near the elevator, “You’re an Alpha!”

  
He was aware, thank-you very much. Their mom had often got compliments for managing to birth two Alphas when she’d only been a Beta herself, even though it had made their home life extremely difficult during puberty.

  
“Clarke’s an omega,” Octavia continued, “About to go into heat…”

  
He really is an intelligent person, but it still takes a few moments before he connects those dots.

  
“Wait…” he splutters, “You think I should…”

  
“Yes, you idiot!” she cries, “I think you should help Clarke through her heat.”


End file.
